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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28045212">You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyingly_dreamy/pseuds/dizzyingly_dreamy'>dizzyingly_dreamy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Sort of) Slow Burn, (in the best way), (little bit out of nowhere), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is an asshole, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky is 18, Bucky likes that, Canon-Typical Violence, Cigarettes, Cliche, Crushes, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gay Bucky Barnes, Good Music Mentions, Highschool AU, Homophobic Language, I suck at tagging okay, It leans more towards Evanstan than it does Stucky, Jock Steve Rogers, M/M, Male/Female smut, Male/male smut, Marijuana, Minor Violence, Music Lover Bucky, Music Lover Steve, Mutual Pining, Nick Fury is Nick Fury, Nobody Bucky Barnes, Not Beta'd, Period Typical fashion, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Recreational Drug Use, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Senior Highschool year, Set in Early 1990s, Sharon Carter Is A Bitch, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers is a bit of a Dork, Steve is 18, Still i suggest you read it if you're bored enough or interested enough, This fic is a little unrealistic, WARNING: this is more of a character and a decade study than it is a real stucky fic, cheating (mentioned), except not, inappropriate use of coconut oil, lets be honest, no underage here, oh yeah, sue me, tags are out of order, we all like that, we fall like men, who cares</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 01:07:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,793</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28045212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyingly_dreamy/pseuds/dizzyingly_dreamy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I've seen you around. You seem really...carefree. And happy. And it pisses me off that my friends are complete dicks to you, because that picture is from last year, and I probably would have been in your position if I hadn't...changed.” </p><p>Bucky was partially unimpressed and that was the part of him that reared its head. “So, pity?” </p><p>Rogers eyes widened. “No!” he cried, clapping a hand over his mouth. “No. I'm sorry. I'm such a dork when it comes to words. I mean that my friends,” he made a face at friends, “are the people I used to beat up when they put mud down some girl's dress. You look happy. And not like a prick. So. I wanted to say hi, because I need more happy and you seem...like a cool person.” </p><p>Bucky blinked at him.</p><p>~</p><p>or, Bucky is a nobody who's not exactly openly gay but he's not trying to hide it. he just wants to get through senior year and then leave this damn town, and maybe he won't make a fool out of himself in front of the biggest crush of his life; Quarterback and team captain, Steve Rogers. He doesn't even know Bucky exists, so this should be easy. Key word; should.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>122</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello! this is about 14K more words than i originally planned, ahah.</p><p>like the tags said, this is more of a character study and a decade study. I've recently become obsessed with the 90s and hence this fic. It leans more towards Evanstan than it does Stucky, so they're probably out of character a lot of the time when it comes to Bucky and Steve. However, I feel they're a bit more on point when it comes to Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan. </p><p>i don't own these characters, nor do I think that Evanstan is realistic as a ship. I think it's fun and cool to ship what you ship, but pushing it onto the actors is not cool. Keep it on the websites, guys, not their personal lives.</p><p>also! everything in this fic is either intentionally out of place or intentionally in place. I don't need ten different people telling me how this doesn't feel like stucky. I know. Like I said; Evanstan. </p><p>if you're reading, i actually hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it. frankly, i'm going to be extremely confused if anyone does read this. i was reluctant to post because I wrote it for myself and told myself I wasn't going to post it, and yet, here I am. </p><p>(p.s, things I write in italics don't actually transfer from my writing program to the website, so just imagine some parts are in italic where you see fit)( and the title comes from the song 'you' by keaton henson)</p><p>&lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>-eep. Beep. Beep. Beep.</p><p>Bucky growled and slammed his fist against his alarm clock. Stupid thing. Couldn't it see that he was comfortable? And that he was finally sleeping properly? He punched his pillow back into something more comfortable and wiggled under his covers, closing his eyes and letting sleep pull him back into the wonderful bliss he seldo--</p><p>“James Buchanan Barnes, if you don't unlock this door for me, I will let you fail your Bio exam!' Sam shouted. </p><p>Bucky grunted as he slid out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers that were plain black, and walked over to his window. He pulled back the dark blanket that served as a sort of shield to the sunlight, and winced down at Sam, who was standing just below the window, arms crossed. His backpack was over one shoulder, and he did not look impressed to see Bucky without a shirt. Bucky sighed, yawning, and gestured for him to go around front, shuffling out of his room. </p><p>His family was gone, either for work or for school that started earlier than Bucky's, so the house was thankfully empty. His sisters would have had a fit if he walked out of his bedroom wearing nothing but boxers, and his mother would send him back into his room screeching. Bucky reached up, popped the lock, turned the bolt, and turned back around, shuffling into his kitchen where there was hopefully some orange juice. </p><p>“You know, I'm aware you've got the body of a football player, but clothes are acceptable.” Sam said, closing the front door behind him and kicking off his shoes, which, Bucky was slightly annoyed to say, were a much newer pair of Vans than Bucky had. Bucky turned around, drinking apple juice straight from the jug, and when he finished he looked down at his own body. </p><p>“Football player?” he asked, licking his lips. He struck a pose. “You think they'd let me in?” Sam snickered and shook his head, holding his hand out for the apple juice. Bucky passed it over, rooting around until he found something that resembled breakfast. He turned back around to find that Sam had consumed a rather large quantity of juice, and snatched it back, glaring half heartedly. </p><p>“Shower. I promise not to drink any more juice.” Sam said, pointing to the corridor that led to the bathroom, along with Bucky's bedroom, and his sisters and his parents bedrooms. He gave Sam a flat look of disbelief. “Really. I won't.” </p><p>“If you touch my CD's or any of my tapes, I might just kill you Wilson.” Bucky warned, and he shuffled off to the bathroom to shower. He knew Sam was going to drink more juice, and he was going to go looking into Bucky's CD's and tapes, but that was intentional. Bucky's ma had brought home 'Pablo Honey' by Radiohead last night after work, and Bucky hadn't even cracked it open yet. Sam would freak. </p><p>He shut the bathroom door behind him, and glanced in the mirror. Sure, okay, he could maybe see being a football player. He definitely had the build, Sam wasn't wrong about that, but he was a little slimmer than the actual football players in their highschool. A little more lanky. He didn't care. He wasn't ever going to be a football player anyway; being publicly gay scared away a lot of the guys, and, frankly, the girls too. </p><p>He stripped of his boxers and flicked on the shower, stepping under while the water heated up, getting a shock of cold before the heat washed over him. </p><p>Funny thing was, he didn't even try to announce that he liked guys. He just sort of didn't have any girlfriends when it was cool, and whenever someone asked, he'd shrug and say yeah, sure, I'm a fag. Sam was cool with it though, and that had really taken Bucky off guard. Best friends since they were seven years old, and brought up like good catholic boys, Bucky really hadn't thought that he'd have a best friend after realising why he kept dreaming about guys and getting hard from it. </p><p>When Bucky walked out of the shower, leaving small foot-print shaped puddles of water behind on the wooden floors, and walked back into his room, Sam was looking through his CD's, as Bucky predicted. He hadn't found Pablo Honey, however, so Bucky said nothing. </p><p>“Ah, shit dude, you got Clapton?” Sam said softly as Bucky pulled on a clean pair of identical boxers and a pair of baggy Guess jeans. Bucky hummed as a response and clicked his tongue as he chose a shirt. Did it even matter? Nobody even looked at him anyways. He opted for a black t-shirt and a plaid button down, pulling them over his still dripping hair. He left the button down open, leaning over to grab his towel and dry his hair into a somewhat managable mess. </p><p>He also chose a P.M Dawn CD and popped it into his player, dancing along as he ran his fingers through his hair that refused to be tamed. On the left of his dresser, where his mirror was propped up, there was a P.M Dawn poster, and on the right, a Misery poster. In fact, most of his bedroom walls were covered with posters, mainly because when he heard or saw something he really liked he spent a long time saving up for the poster. Sam helped, occasionally, when he was being a nice friend and not a jackass. </p><p>“Fuck you Barnes!” Sam cried over the music, and Bucky spun around with a positively wicked smile as Sam held up Pablo Honey. </p><p>“Ma brought it home for me last night!” he called back, and Sam shot daggers at him. Bucky hummed along to the music until he walked over and pressed stop, gathering up his textbooks and notebooks and shoving them into his backpack. “How much time we got?” Bucky asked, pulling his backpack over his shoulder. Sam glanced at his watch and stood, letting Bucky's CD's fall onto his bed cover. </p><p>“Fifteen minutes.” he replied, and they both walked out of Bucky's bedroom and to the front entry. Sam pulled on his Vans, which were red and white, and Bucky pulled on his Vans, which were black and white, and definitely more worn than Sam's. “You ready for the exam?” </p><p>Bucky laughed as they walked out the front door, Bucky locking it with his house key. “Not at all. Figure I'll still pass it, though.” Sam bumped into him as they trudged down the street towards the bus stop, where, loyally, Happy, the busdriver, was waiting for them. Sam darted ahead, backpack bouncing against his bright yellow and purple windbreaker, his cuffed jeans brushing the pavement. Bucky snickered and followed, speeding up. </p><p>“You got this time?” Bucky asked as he stood behind Sam, who was digging for some change. Sam kicked his foot behind him and Bucky dodged it, grinning. They stepped up onto the bus, and Bucky waved cheerfully at Happy, who grumbled and started driving before Bucky had found a seat. </p><p>Shield Academy sounded a whole lot fancier than it really was. Truthfully, it was a super old public highschool that had become public and just hadn't changed its name. Too much money, apparently, or at least that's what Sam said, and he spent a lot of time reading up on history. Bucky didn't mind it, though. It was his last school that he'd ever go to, and though he'd been going to school with the same people since grade one, there was a surprising number of people he didn't know. </p><p>Principal Fury was a hardass, but if you were on his good side, you'd turn out just fine. Teachers were alright, some of them could use a lesson about what they were teaching, but for the most part, it was your average highschool. Bucky, however, couldn't wait to graduate in nine months. He was going to move out, away, get out of the town he'd grown up in, and he was going to go somewhere where no one knew who he was, or what he did that one time in grade three. </p><p>At one point, he'd hoped that Sam would go with him, and had wanted to mention it, but he saw the way Sam looked at their childhood town, and he didn't want to make Sam pick. </p><p>Happy pulled up in front of the school, and Bucky stood along with Sam, saying their goodbyes as they jumped the stairs to the pavement, looking at the over-populated school. Sam didn't hesitate, but Bucky did. He paused, breathing in the air, and decided that no matter what happened, he was going to have a good day. </p><p>By the time Bucky made it to the front doors, Sam had disappeared, but he usually did that, so Bucky wasn't concerned. He pushed open the front doors and slid inside, pushing past students who were swarming lockers. He made his way through the maze of kids, and when he finally saw his locker, he ran into someone point blank. </p><p>“Faggot, watch where you're going.” Rumlow snarled, spitting on the ground in front of Bucky. He was wearing a varsity jacket, like the rest of the football team, a blood red colour with a Shield on the back, the school's team. The rest of the team followed, save the quarterback, who was missing, and Bucky sighed as he stepped out of their way, though one shoved him, and he slammed against someone's locker, hitting the back of his head.</p><p>Yeah. That happened more often than he'd ever admit. </p><p>He pushed off the lockers, rubbing the back of his head, grimacing, and finally made it to his locker. He spun the combination lock and shoved his bag into the depths of his unaturally clean locker, stamped with posters of Eric Clapton, The Beatles, Nirvana, and P.M Dawn. It was an evergrowing collection, one he edited often. He pulled out his books from his bag and headed off to first class, hoping that his good day would actually sta rt being good, and quickly. </p><p>~</p><p>Lunch bell rang, and Bucky was tugged out of his head. He jumped up, and raced out of the classroom among the rest of his classmates, and headed to his locker. When he reached it, he noticed that there was a slip of paper sticking out of the crack. He glanced around, saw no one, and pulled it out. </p><p>Hey<br/>
Sorry about Rumlow and the rest of the team. They're assholes sometimes. If I was there, I would've told them to fuck off. Hope you're okay.</p><p>S.R</p><p>Bucky just about dropped the note. The handwriting was neat and elegant, everything the quarterback and football Captain's writing should not be. He quickly reread it, making sure he wasn't imagining things. He then folded it back up, shoved it into his back pocket and pushed his books into his locker. He tore a piece of paper from a notebook, and scribbled a response. </p><p>I've dealt with worse than Rumlow and his cronies. </p><p>Bucky</p><p>He folded it up, stuck it into his other back pocket, and glanced around. No one was looking, they were all absorbed in their own worlds. He walked up the hall, and very quickly and secretly shoved the note into the bottom of Steve Rogers' locker, walking away. </p><p>Steven Grant Rogers, also known as Quarterback and Captain of the football team, was quite possibly the leader of the student body. He was popular the second he walked into Shield, and every single girl in the school had crushes on him. He was dating Sharon Carter, who was the lead cheerleader, and a class-A bitch. She was a blonde with pretty pink lip gloss and cute plaid skirts that hiked up her pale thighs and Doc Martens, which made perfect sense for someone like Steve Rogers. </p><p>Rogers, though, hoooh boy. He was tall, broad shouldered, and looked quite possibly better than the greek statues you saw in museums. He wore his varisty jacket every day to school, because he was on the team, but damn did he look good. Whenever he took it off, he wore t-shirts that had to be tailored to his exact body or a size too small. He was by far the most attractive male that Bucky had laid eyes on outside of porno mags, but the bar was set low on that one. He had blonde hair and blue eyes that were somehow the shade of a summer sky and yet ten times more intense and vivid(?). He had absolutely kissable lips, pink like bubblegum candy, and a perfect smile. </p><p>There was no surprise when Bucky found that he harboured the biggest crush of his life on Rogers, and Sam really didn't let it lie. He teased, and poked, and at the same time, reminded Bucky not to be an idiot and start thinking he had a chance. Rude, maybe. Looking out for Bucky, yes. </p><p>Rogers was the stereotypical straight kid, the one you saw described in the dictionary when you looked under heterosexual. Bucky had no chance. Absolutely no chance. But that didn't mean that he didn't have embarrassingly hot dreams that resulted in messy bedsheets and a new set of blankets. He had those rarely, but when they happened, he was glad he wasn't friends with Rogers, because otherwise he wouldn't have been able to look him in the eyes. </p><p>Sam was sitting in his usual spot, underneath one of the oak trees in the school's courtyard, a history book propped open on his knees as he ate half a ham sandwich. Bucky dropped beside him, peered over his shoulder and grabbed the second half of the sandwich. </p><p>“Rogers left a note in my locker.” he said mildly, looking out at the rest of the schoolyard. Sam looked up from his book.</p><p>“Seriously?” </p><p>“Yup. It was an apology for Rumlow this morning, and his team. Said if he'd been there he would've told them to fuck off and that he hoped I was okay.” </p><p>Sam's eyes narrowed. “He's painfully straight. Painfully. He has a girlfriend, and you have no chance.” Bucky laughed and nodded. </p><p>“I didn't forget.” he bit into the sandwich and Sam hummed suspiciously, looking back down into his history book. “I am totally freaking out, I hope you know.” Bucky finally admitted, and Sam snorted. </p><p>“S'why I said what I did. I can see you from a mile away Barnes.” Bucky grinned. </p><p>“Don't know what I'd do without you, Sam.” he replied, and a shadow came over his lap. Bucky looked up and felt his heart skip a beat. Oh.</p><p>“James? Can I talk to you for a second?” Rogers asked, and Sam gave him a subtle nudge and Bucky nodded, getting to his feet and swallowing a bite of sandwich. Rogers started walking towards behind the school with Bucky at his heels, heart hammering in his chest. They ducked just behind the school, and Rogers leaned against the brick wall, smiling softly. </p><p>“What can I do for you?” Bucky asked, and to his own shock, he sounded completely normal and casual. Rogers pulled out Bucky's note and opened it, looking down at it. It occurred to Bucky that the whole thing was a prank, a way to humiliate himself in front of his crush. </p><p>“I wanted to know how you got Bucky from James, but I didn't have any more paper.” Rogers said, cheeks an adorable shade of pink, and he had the audacity to add sounding embarrassed. Bucky's heart clenched with how far he was gone on Rogers, and his face actually split into a grin that he couldn't bite back. </p><p>“My middle name is Buchanan. My little sister had trouble saying it when she was young, and I've been Bucky since then.” he explained, and Rogers smiled a little more. “She's a little heathen, though, don't be mistaken. She's the devil.” Bucky added quickly, and Rogers laughed. </p><p>“Would you prefer I call you Bucky, then?” he asked, and Bucky's heart lurched and butterflies started having aggressive fits inside his stomach. Dammit, dammit. Bucky's face warmed up considerably and he shrugged. </p><p>“I kinda like the way you say my first name.” he admitted, and then he froze. Fucking fantastic, Barnes. “Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it li--” </p><p>“Hey, calm down. Don't worry. I'm not...” Rogers trailed off, gesturing to the rest of the school. “It doesn't bother me.” he finished lamely, and Bucky relaxed, but only slightly. Bucky forced out a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. </p><p>“Bucky is fine.” he replied quickly, and Rogers nodded. There was a moment of silence, where Bucky wished he were dead, because he was making a fool out of himself, and he was surely going to regret this later, but then Rogers pulled something out of his back pocket and handed it to Bucky. Bucky hesitated, looking up at Rogers, and then took what he realised was a photo. </p><p>“Oh, wow,” Bucky murmured. It was a picture of Rogers, no doubt, no one could replicate those eyes and that smile, but he was tiny, scrawny, and sickly pale. He was standing next to someone who looked like his mother, who was beautiful and just as blonde as Rogers was. Bucky handed it back. “Why're you showing me this?” he asked. Rogers shrugged. </p><p>“You've got Sam, but uh...” he paused, and his cheeks went that adorable pink again. “I've seen you around. You seem really...carefree. And happy. And it pisses me off that my friends are complete dicks to you, because that picture is from last year, and I probably would have been in your position if I hadn't...changed.” </p><p>Bucky was partially unimpressed and that was the part of him that reared its head. “So, pity?” </p><p>Rogers eyes widened. “No!” he cried, clapping a hand over his mouth. “No. I'm sorry. I'm such a dork when it comes to words. I mean that my friends,” he made a face at friends, “are the people I used to beat up when they put mud down some girl's dress. You look happy. And not like a prick. So. I wanted to say hi, because I need more happy and you seem...like a cool person.” </p><p>Bucky blinked at him. “You...think that...me, Bucky Barnes, is cool?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. Rogers shrugged and nodded. </p><p>“You've got P.M Dawn in your locker. And Clapton.” he said. “Oh, yeah, and The Beatles, right?” he added, snapping his fingers. Bucky was drawn to a pink snap bracelet on his wrist, just barely hidden beneath the wrist of his varsity jacket. He has a girlfriend. He's out of your league, Barnes.</p><p>“Sam's probably waiting on me,” Bucky said, pointing back at Sam, who was still under the oak tree. Rogers immediately looked guilty. “But, do you, uh, want my number? I can't promise I'll be the first to pick up, because like I said, my sister is a heathen, but just ask for me and I'll come.” he added, words fumbling over each other. Rogers seemed to perk up and he nodded with a smile that made Bucky's knees weak. </p><p>“Sure. I'll give you mine, too, in case I don't catch you.” Rogers said, and he patted his jeans pockets. He hummed and then pulled out the picture, and flipped it onto the back. Bucky pulled a pen out of his pocket, because, yes, he was that person, and looked up at Rogers for confirmation. Rogers nodded, and Bucky took the picture, scrawling his number onto the back. He then passed the pen to Rogers, who beckoned for Bucky's arm. </p><p>“Ah, god,” Bucky grinned and he pulled up his sleeve. Rogers hand cupped his wrist, his hands soft but callused and warm. It sent shivers down Bucky's spine, and he worked not to shudder. Rogers looked up, smiling, and looked back down, writing his number down. Bucky snickered, because it tickled, and Rogers swatted at his upper arm to get him to stop. Bucky whispered apologies, and Rogers pulled back, passing the pen back. </p><p>“Any times I should avoid calling?” Rogers asked, and Bucky paused. Hm. </p><p>“Early mornings, because that's when the rest of my family is awake. Otherwise, you're good. How about me?” </p><p>“Any time.” Rogers said quickly. “I live alone, so there's not really any time I'm worried about being disrupted.” Bucky nodded, and smiling, the pair walked back towards Sam, breaking apart before they reached the tree. Bucky waved slightly, and Rogers copied, grinning and heading back into the school. </p><p>Bucky watched him for a moment, until Sam grabbed the hem of his jeans and forced him down onto the ground. Bucky couldn't stop smiling, even if he wanted to. He leaned back against the tree, and slowly, pulled back the sleeve of his right arm, showing it to Sam, who was completely silent for several moments. </p><p>“Wow.” Sam breathed, tugging his sleeve back down. “I didn't see that coming. Did you give him yours?” Bucky nodded, dumbfounded. Holy mother of fuck he had Steve Roger's number and he was allowed to call anytime. </p><p>Immediately, Bucky found words and they spilled from his lips, telling Sam everything that had happened in avid excitement. Sam's eyes just kept getting wider and wider until he just shook his head and held up his hands. </p><p>“I can't. You have to stop. I can't tell if you're describing a movie plot or your life. It's too much.” </p><p>Bucky punched Sam's shoulder and sat back, grinning. All that he was thinking was about Rogers' perfect smile, his bubblegum lips and sweet laugh, that had been for Bucky. The only thing negative in his mind that he continued to remind himself was that he had a girlfriend, a very terrifying and bitchy girlfriend who would order the entire football team to kick his ass if this got out. </p><p>Somehow, even that couldn't bring him down. </p><p>~</p><p>Three days later, Rogers called. </p><p>It was a Friday night, that Bucky was spending alone because all his sisters and his mother and father had gone out to his grandparents to spend the weekend. Bucky had politely declined, because he was sick of going and making up excuses as to why he didn't have a highschool sweetheart yet. Nobody in his family except his sister Rebecca knew that he was gay, and that was completely intentional. He'd be kicked out if he was found out. </p><p>In his isolation, he was blasting Rubber Soul and baking brownies that he had put copious amounts of weed into, because he was in the mood to get high and listen to Pablo Honey and just forget about the world. They were almost done baking, and when he went into his room to stop the music, and as soon as silence fell, the phone started to ring. Bucky wiped his hands onto his pyjama pants, which were just sweats, and walked into the living room to answer. </p><p>“Hello?” </p><p>“Hey, uh, Bucky?” </p><p>Bucky's heart leapt into his throat and he choked on it. “Hey! Rogers. How're you doing?” he said casually, and there was a soft sigh from the other end. </p><p>“Fine. Figured I'd call since I'm not really doing anything.” Rogers said quietly. “What're you up to? Shouldn't you be out with Sam or something?” </p><p>Bucky snickered. “I should ask you the same thing. Sam and I don't really do Friday-night hangouts, and my whole family's out of the city for the weekend.” </p><p>“Well, lucky you. Sharon wanted me to go out with her but I just...I'm not in the mood for that.” Rogers sighed, and Bucky flushed red. After a moment of silence passed, Rogers cursed under his breath. “Not that. I meant dealing with her friends and mine.” Bucky swallowed, definitely not sporting a semi at the idea of Steve Rogers naked in an unidentified bed, cheeks pink and lips parted and swollen from being bitten. </p><p>“They're sort of annoying.” Bucky muttered. He sighed. “You wanna come over? I've got brownies in the oven and a shitload of CDs.” he offered before he knew what he was doing. There was a pause, and Bucky clenched his toes in anticipation. </p><p>'What kind of brownies?” Rogers asked slowly. Bucky grinned devilishly. </p><p>“Mary Jane, baby.” he said smoothly, and Rogers laughed. </p><p>“Okay, but on one condition.” he said, and Bucky's heart jumped. </p><p>“Sure.” </p><p>“You call me Steve, not Rogers.” </p><p>Bucky smiled widely. “Deal, Steve. You have my address?” </p><p>“Uh, yes.” Ro—Steve stammered, and Bucky didn't think too hard about why he stammered. “I'll be there soon.” </p><p>They exchanged goodbyes, and Bucky put his phone down on the reciever. He looked at the rest of his house, and immediately panicked, because holy fuck what was he thinking?! He ran into his room, tidied it up until it looked half reasonable, and shoved all the dirty dishes into the sink, running water over them. He then went back into his room and put on another Beatles' album, starting to dance to it as he walked back to the kitchen to check on his brownies. </p><p>It was a good fifteen minutes before Bucky spun around, in the middle of shouting along to A Hard Day's Night, and froze, face red. Steve was standing, leaning against the counter and smiling at Bucky. His cheeks went a little red at being caught, and he straightened up, running his hands through his blonde spiky hair. He was wearing, not his varsity jacket, but instead a leather one, over top his white t-shirt and light blue Levi's. </p><p>If it was possible, he looked even hotter in leather. </p><p>Bucky held up a hand and rushed to his room, turning down the music slightly and walking back out, a little more composed. </p><p>“Sorry, the door was unlocked and I heard the music so...” Steve shrugged, putting his hands into his pockets. Bucky waved a hand dismissively and opened the oven, smiling softly. God, he loved to bake. “Woah, that smells really good.” Steve said, stepping closer. Bucky stepped aside so that he could peek inside. Steve smiled and inhaled slowly. They both stepped back and Bucky glanced at the digital clock on the oven. </p><p>“Five minutes, probably.” Bucky said, and he dusted off his hands again on the backs of his thighs, glancing down at his ma's recipe book. “Yeah. Five.” he looked back up to find Steve watching him, and he smiled and blushed. Dammit. He couldn't control himself, could he? He straightened up and walked back into his bedroom, expecting Steve to follow, and sure enough, he did. </p><p>“I like your room.” Steve said, and he walked over, sitting down at Bucky's desk, looking perfectly at home. Bucky grinned and looked around, especially at his unmade bed, which was covered with CD's from his scattered mind earlier. He looked down at them, examining each. Beatles, Nirvana, Clapton, Radiohead, a few artists that no one really knew about but that he loved. </p><p>He couldn't pick. Not for the first thing Steve heard while over at his house. “Pick one. There's more on the rack if you don't like any of these.” he said, gesturing over to the half empty CD rack that he was constantly filling and improving. Steve raised his eyebrows and stood, leaning over his bed to look at them. He was only a few inches away from Bucky, and Bucky had to focus on breathing normally, because oh god Steve smelled clean, like peppermint soap, and cologne, and a musk that Bucky assumed was just plain old Steve. His heart speed up and he tried to stop himself from flushing. </p><p>“This one.” Steve said, and he picked up Pablo Honey. Bucky was mildly surprised, plucking the CD from his hands and walking over to his player and his stereo system. He stopped The Beatles, popping the disc and carefully placing it back into its case. </p><p>“I got this one a few days ago. My ma bought it for me, I haven't listened to it.” Bucky said, prying open the case with a soft snap and looking at the disc inside. He felt Steve's presence just behind his shoulder. “It's Radiohead. They're a new band, but I've heard teasers over the radio and they sound really good.” he mumbled, and he swallowed hard, the butterflies having a gladiator battle inside his stomach. </p><p>“Should I pick a different one?” Steve asked, voice low. Is he flirting? Bucky thought in a panic and he shook his head, carefully placing the CD into the player and closing it. The small, wind up timer in the kitchen went off, and Steve stepped back. Bucky pressed play, and walked back out into the kitchen, taking the brownies out. </p><p>He didn't know if he was going to survive the night.</p><p>~</p><p>“Ahah, fuck,” Steve giggled, curling up slightly as he laughed. Bucky grinned foolishly. They were sprawled out on Bucky's bed, which was small, but somehow fit the both of them, Bucky pressed against the wall and his shoulder against Steve's. Steve had taken off his jacket hours ago, and his skin was hot, so hot, even through Bucky's t-shirt. Bucky sat up slightly, smiling down at Steve who was still laying down. </p><p>“Play the second one. Creep?” Steve asked, propping himself up on his elbows, and Bucky complied, climbing over Steve to change the song back to Creep, which they'd listened to more than ten times in the past four hours. By now, they both knew the lyrics by heart, and Steve was unashamedly singing along in such a beautiful voice that it took Bucky all his willpower not to say anything. </p><p>That would be suicide. </p><p>“You're just like an angel, your skin makes me cry,” Steve sang, dropping back down. “You float like a feather in a beautiful world, I wish I was special, you're so fuckin' special,” he lifted his hands into the air and mimicked playing the electric guitar, and Bucky inhaled, ready to sing. </p><p>“But I'm a creep! I'm a weirdo-o-o! What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here,” they shouted together, Steve sitting up and looking so damn perfect with his bubblegum lips and rich voice and accent that only came out when he was under the influence. Bucky liked it more than he'd ever admit. Steve started to follow along on guitar, that was either the real thing or very convincing, and he ended up falling on the floor. Bucky started to laugh, reaching over the side of the bed and extending his hand. </p><p>Steve giggled again and instead of taking Bucky's hand, he started to trace the lines of his palm and his fingers with his fingertips, still singing along to the song. Bucky's breathing hitched, and he daren't take his hand back, and Steve looked up at him, mouthing I don't belong here, I don't belong here, and the song ended. Bucky smiled and sat up, reminding himself that Steve was stoned, straight, and very much dating Sharon Carter. </p><p>“Brownie?” he offered, and Steve shook his head, laying on the ground, smiling. Bucky dropped back onto his mattress, one arm hanging over, his face squished into the back of his hand as he looked over the edge of his bed at Steve. </p><p>“I can't be like this in front of anyone else.” Steve said, so softly that it was almost drowned out by the music. “I used to be able to when my mom was still alive, but now...now there's no one who knows me outisde of this body.” he said, and it was such a grimace that Bucky was taken off guard. “They see me and all of a sudden I'm playing Quarterback and I have no idea who the hell I am.” Steve growled and he sat up suddenly, sighing. </p><p>“I see you.” Bucky murmured. Steve looked at him, so innocently that Bucky's heart hurt. Bucky licked his lips, impulsively, and Steve's eyes flicked down to them and back up. Bucky's chest tightened and he wanted it to happen, needed it so badly, but Steve Rogers was straight and had a girlfriend, he was straight and had a girlfriend, straight and had a girlfriend--</p><p>“Oh, motherfuck.” Bucky cursed as the phone started to ring. Steve, who had somehow gotten a whole lot closer in the last few seconds, pulled back, flushing red. Bucky leapt up, turning off the music, and raced to answer the phone. “Hello?” </p><p>“James. I was just checking in.” it was his ma, and she sounded worried. Bucky licked his lips and inhaled slowly. Worst timing, ma. </p><p>“I'm fine, ma. Was trying to sleep, actually.” he said, noticing the time. His ma sighed and there was a moment of silence. “How's Grandma and Grandpa?” he asked, leaning against the wall. Steve was shuffling out of his room in his socks, and opened the fridge, pulling out the milk and holding it up for Bucky to see. Bucky nodded. He turned and grabbed a glass, like he had done it a thousand times before, and poured himself a cup.</p><p>“They're good. Wondering where you are, of course. I told them you had important exams to study for, which you have been doing, correct?” she replied, and Bucky tensed. </p><p>“Of course. I went to bed a while ago after studying for History.” Bucky lied. If they knew, he would be done for. His ma didn't say anything. </p><p>“I love you, James.” </p><p>“I love you too, ma. Give everyone my love.”</p><p>He hung up, rubbing his hands over his face. Steve walked over, holding out some milk. Bucky took it, grateful, and drank all of it in one go. He looked at the time on the stove and sighed. One am. </p><p>“You wanna stay the night? It's late enough and I've got extra blankets.” Bucky asked quietly, and Steve paused, licking a milk moustache off his upper lip and making Bucky snicker. Steve grinned and shrugged. </p><p>“If it's not a hassle.” he muttered, drinking more milk, and Bucky shook his head. “Sure. Where should I set up camp?” he said, looking around. Bucky hummed, looking around too, wondering where he'd be able to sleep. </p><p>“My floor?” Bucky winced, and Steve grinned. </p><p>“Wouldn't have it any other way.” he said, and he marched off towards Bucky's bedroom. Bucky watched, in awe, and it hit him that they had almost kissed. He swallowed hard, and suddenly the only thing holding him back was the fact that he had a girlfriend. </p><p>Nothing like that happened again throughout the night. They listened to Creep, sang along, until the high wore off, and then Steve mumbled a soft goodnight and snuggled into his pile of blanket and pillows as Bucky turned off the light and locked the house up. He climbed into bed, sighing softly, and then he too fell asleep. </p><p>What a fuckin day.</p><p>~</p><p>Steve left the next morning in a hurry, because Sharon was likely to stop by, and he needed to be back, and Bucky was half awake when he started to get dressed, changing out of the pyjamas that Bucky had lent him that hadn't really fit. Bucky had politely looked away after seeing Steve's abs, flushing red and sitting up in bed. Steve turned and touched his shoulder smiling.</p><p>“Thank you, Bucky. That was the most fun I've had since moving here.” he said sincerely, and then he was gone, leaving his scent on one of Bucky's pyjama shirts, and an echo of his presence. </p><p>Bucky felt oddly sober once Steve left, and dropped back into his bed, the shirt Steve had worn tucked under his face. He fell back asleep with a smile, curled up against his shirt. It smelled faintly of peppermint and cologne and Steve, and he didn't think he'd had such a good sleep in a long while. </p><p>~</p><p>Steve called on Sunday, again, in the early afternoon, before Bucky's family was to return. Bucky answered, hands covered in flour as he was kneading a dough as he spoke to Steve. </p><p>“I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have--”</p><p>“Shut it, Rogers. You're fine.” Bucky said teasingly, and he heard Steve's smile in the soft huff of laughter. “I'm just kneading dough, so if I drop the phone, it's because of that.” he added, grunting as he carefully squished the dough into a somewhat loafish shape. </p><p>“Okay.” Steve said quietly, humbly, and Bucky smiled. “I'm sorry I left so fast yesterday. Sharon usually comes by Saturday mornings, because I usually make pancakes and apparently I'm not bad at making them.” he said, sounding slightly annoyed, and images of Sharon showing Steve just how much she liked his pancakes filled Bucky's head, and he crushed the dough, fucking it up. He growled and tossed the dough across the room. “Are you okay?” </p><p>“Yes.” Bucky said, holding the phone with his flour covered hand. “Sorry. I fucked up the dough and then threw it across the room. And I guess you'll just have to start spending Saturday nights over here instead.” he added, and there was a moment of silence.</p><p>“Really?” he asked, and Bucky 'mhm'ed. “What about your family?” he asked, and Bucky sighed. </p><p>“You'll have to deal with that, I guess. They can be a hassle.” he muttered, clapping his hands to remove the flour. “Especially my ma. She's a bit nosy.” </p><p>Steve hummed. “Well, I think I can handle that.” Bucky smiled, and he heard a car door slam outside. </p><p>“Oh, shoot. I've gotta go. I'll call you later,” he said quickly, and hung up before Steve could reply. He rushed over, picked up his dead dough and threw it into the trash, wiping his hands and walking to the front door to greet his family. </p><p>Monday was going to be a strange day, that was for sure. Was Steve going to act like they hadn't spent the night together, high out of their minds? Or was he going to act like they were friends, because, in all honesty, they were?</p><p>Bucky was scared and excited to find out, and as he helped his family bring in their overnight bags, and presents sent from Grandma and Grandpa for Bucky, he pushed it out of his mind. He needed to be catholic right now, a straight, late bloomer, catholic. </p><p>It was the hardest acting he'd ever had to do.</p><p>~</p><p>Sam was outside Bucky's window the following morning, shouting at him to get up and unlock the door. Bucky yawned, walked to the front door in nothing but his boxers, and unlocked the door. Sam burst in, in his very Sam Wilson-y way, and Bucky didn't even bother to shower. He'd done it yesterday, and he was exhausted. He pulled on his Guess jeans, some socks, a t-shirt that was soft and warm, and a ratty old windbreaker that his ma had bought him a while ago. </p><p>“Jesus, Barnes, you look like a train hit you.” Sam said, and Bucky realised he was relaying most of the story after he'd gotten halfway through. He left out the intimate parts, the parts of Steve that Steve had revealed to Bucky and Bucky alone, and the almost kiss. Something told him to keep that to himself. Sam, however, was in awe, jug of juice slipping slowly from his hand. </p><p>“He spent the night?” he hissed, and Bucky nodded, taking the jug and drinking most of it. “You listened to Pablo Honey with him? Without me?” </p><p>“I told him to pick a CD! He chose Pablo Honey and I rolled with it.” Bucky protested, tugging on his jacket and his backpack. Sam sighed and shook his head, but there was a smile on his face that told Bucky that he was proud. “He's coming over Saturday night too. Meet ma and dad and the devils.” he added, and Sam raised his eyebrows. </p><p>“I'd better be the best man.” </p><p>“Sam!” Bucky cried as he locked the front door. Sam gave him a sheepish smile that did not show any remorse that wasn't fake, and Bucky just sighed as they walked up to the bus stop. </p><p>When they arrived at school, the first thing Bucky saw was Steve and Sharon making out in an isolated corner, in fact, the isolated corner that he and Steve had traded numbers. Bitter jealousy surged through him and he decided that he wasn't going to try and have a good day, that instead he was going to let it be what it was. He walked swiftly into the school, and when Rumlow intentionally bumped into him, Bucky shoved him right back. </p><p>“Oh? You wanna fuckin do this, fag?” Rumlow snarled, and there was a crowd  surrounding them, and Bucky removed his backpack and his windbreaker, tossing them behind him. Rumlow took off his varsity jacket, and the rest of the football team fell behind him, ready to fall in if Bucky started to get the upperhand. It was a lose-lose situation, just the kind of situation Bucky desperately wanted to be in. </p><p>Rumlow threw the first punch, and Bucky ducked, slamming a fist into Rumlow's ribs. He stumbled back, into his team, who looked about ready to tear Bucky limb from limb, but Rumlow calmed them down, saying something about not coming in, that this was his fight. Rumlow aimed a blow for Bucky's ribs, and he moved to the side to avoid it, but instead, walked right into a hit that sent him flying back into the lockers, hitting the back of his head. </p><p>Rumlow was upon him within a few seconds, dragging him to the ground and climbing on top of him, slamming his fists into Bucky's face again and again until blood filled Bucky's mouth and his consciousness started to dwindle. He groaned softly as the hits stopped, and Rumlow was dragged off of him. Peppermint and cologne filled his nose, which was a miracle, because he'd assumed that Rumlow had broken it. A hand rested his shoulder, the heat familiar, and he shrugged it off, getting to his feet and leaning against the locker. </p><p>Fuck. He'd really gone and done it now. </p><p>“Barnes! Rumlow! In my office, immediately.” </p><p>Principal Fury. Bucky swallowed a sickeningly large mouthful of blood and made his way up to the office, alongside Rumlow, who looked as if he was going to kill Bucky. Bucky was relieved to feel that Rumlow hadn't gone for his eyes or his nose, instead his mouth and his jaw and cheeks. He'd be able to attend class, then, unless Fury decided otherwise. </p><p>“Barnes, go home. Return when your temper has subsided. Rumlow, you stay right here.” Fury growled, and Bucky turned right around and started to walk out of the school. </p><p>With luck, he'd be able to convince his ma that it wasn't a fight, but he hadn't seen the bruising yet, so he couldn't tell. He shouldered his way out the front doors, leaning against the brick wall, irrational tears forcing his way into his eyes, stinging like acid. </p><p>“Sonofabitch!” he shouted, and he buried his aching face in his hands. When he was calm enough, he pushed off the brick wall, and started to head home on foot, knowing he'd rather not go onto the bus with a face like this. </p><p>Minutes passed, maybe ten, maybe twenty, but when Bucky heard his voice calling after him, he sighed, knowing that Steve was quite honestly the last person he wanted to see. He waited anyway, also aware that if Steve wanted to, he could easily catch up to him effortlessly. </p><p>“Bucky, what the hell were you thinking?” Steve demanded, and Bucky looked up at him. He sighed and continued to walk, ignoring Steve's question. “Buck, you know that Rumlow has fought more times than you, he knows how to fight dirty!”</p><p>Bucky didn't say anything. Steve paused, and then caught up with him. </p><p>“You know that. It's why you let him get away with everything.” he said, softly. “It's why you fought back today. Why? Why today?” </p><p>Bucky didn't say anything. </p><p>“Fine. But I'm coming home with you and helping you with your damn face.” Steve said grumpily, and they finished the walk in silence. </p><p>Bucky was confused as to why he was here. Didn't he care about his reputation? He was going to let it crumble and burn if he spent too much time around Bucky and didn' try and hide it. He was going to be just like Bucky, and Bucky wasn't sure he wanted that to happen. Steve had been an outsider once, as he told him a few nights ago, and it sounded miserable. </p><p>“Why are you here?” Bucky asked as he pulled out his house key, and turned to look down at Steve who was standing on the pavement. Steve blinked owlishly up at him, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. </p><p>“Because. We're friends. Friends stick together til the end of the line.” he said, and Bucky felt impatient. </p><p>“Yeah? What about your reputation? Sharon? How does she feel about you starting to spend time around a fag?” he growled, and Steve winced. </p><p>“Don't call yourself that.” </p><p>“Why not? It's what I am! Fag! Fag! Fag!” he cried, and Steve leaned up, covering Bucky's mouth gently so that it didn't hurt, but firmly enough that he couldn't speak above a muffled sound. Steve's eyes were dark, and he jutted his chin out towards the lock on the door, and Bucky scowled, obeying and unlocking the door. It swung open, and Steve pushed Bucky inside, closing it behind him. </p><p>“You are not a fag, so stop using that word.” Steve snarled in Bucky's face, and Bucky spread his arms. </p><p>“Gonna hit me? Hm? Make it count, Rogers, because I promise I'll get a good one in and mess up that pretty face of yours.” he taunted, and Steve clenched his fists and looked away. “It's fine, it's not like nobody else does it,” Bucky continued, walking to where Steve was looking and staring down his intense blue eyes. “Actually, everyone does it, everyone in our entire fucking--”</p><p>“Please,” Steve breathed. “Stop.” Bucky faltered and turned away. </p><p>Goddamnit. He wrapped his arms around himself and sat down on his couch. Steve walked over to his freezer and pulled out something, walking over and sitting next to Bucky. He held the frozen item up to his face, and it was so cold he could feel the cold radiating off of it. He hissed away, but Steve grabbed his jaw, gently, and pressed the cold up against his bruising cheeks. Bucky whined, but didn't pull away. </p><p>“I'm sorry.” Bucky mumbled. Steve locked eyes with him and didn't say anything for a while. The cold was starting to seep into his bones, and though it felt nice, he didn't like the cold nearly as much as he liked heat. </p><p>“I brought an album for you. One of the few I own.” Steve said after several minutes, and a few swaps of frozen items. Bucky raised his eyebrows, and Steve grabbed his hand, pressing it against the bag of frozen fruit. Bucky held it there, and Steve went over by the door and opened his backpack. </p><p>He held up a CD that was completely white, but as he got closer, Bucky realised that there was a subtle print of bricks on it. He raised his eyebrows and carefully reached out for it, examining it. He popped open the case as Steve took the bag of peas and held them up to his face.</p><p>“Pink Floyd...” Bucky murmured, bottom lip still swollen but definitely improving. His thumbg brushed the edge of the CD, which had the white brick print on it. He slid out the little slip of paper and started to read some of the song titles. “Goodbye Blue Sky? Mother?” He looked up at Steve who was smiling slightly and he shrugged. </p><p>“It's one of my favourite albums of all time. My mom bought it for me a few years ago. It's from '79 but it holds up really well.” he said, and he flipped the peas, making Bucky hiss slightly. He was cold, dammit. He put the paper back and smiled a little. Steve experimentally pulled the peas away, and using his far too effective fingers, he pulled Bucky's jaw towards him so that he could see.</p><p>Bucky swallowed, hard. He really wanted to kiss Steve but knew better than to actually try. He'd get a fist to the face, and it felt like the swelling was actually going down. </p><p>“Mm. Little more. It's not there yet.” Steve hummed, getting up and exchanging the frozen peas. Bucky looked after him, confused. </p><p>“What do you mean?” </p><p>Steve stood up and was holding a piece of raw ground beef, wrapped in a plastic bag. He blinked at Bucky, and then pointed at his face. “The bruise. It's not there yet. My mom was a nurse and I sure as hell have some experience. There's a way you want it to look before you know it's not gonna swell up again on you.” Bucky made an impressed face as Steve came back and sat down, pressing the beef to his cheek. </p><p>This time, Bucky didn't hiss, and it earned him a soft smile from Steve, who was looking at him like he wasn't just a teenage dirtbag. </p><p>“I've never really cared about reputations.” Steve said finally, after a few moments of surprisingly comfortable silence. Bucky cringed. “No, it's okay, I wanted to say this anyway. I don't care much, because I've found that trying to be someone I'm not it just as bad as kicking myself into the ground. I tried that, the whole, I'll be popular thing, back when I was a scrawny little kid, and it didn't work.</p><p>“Of course, that might've just been because I had seventeen different things wrong with me and being underdeveloped was not one of them, and no one wanted to feel responsible for me. I'd go home and my mom would have a soda and a sandwich and she'd sit with me and ask me about my day. I probably bored her by talking about the way I found a hidden patch of flowers and how I painted something worth looking at. She listened, though, and I learned that I'd rather be myself with people who care than with people who don't. So, no, I'm not worried about Sharon, or my team.” </p><p>Bucky was smiling softly at the thought of a small Steve Rogers talking avidly about art and flowers to his mother, and he looked up once Steve had finished to see grim determination written all over his face.</p><p>“Pretty sure she's dating me because of how I look and the fact that I'm quarterback.” Steve added, annoyedly. Bucky raised his eyebrows. “She says she loves me. I say it back, but I don't mean it. God, the one person I've said that to and meant it was my mom.” </p><p>Bucky's heart just about flew straight out of his chest. “You say it pretty convincingly.” he pointed out, and Steve grinned mischievously. He turned the beef around and pressed the colder side against Bucky's face. </p><p>“I've had a lot of practice.” he muttered. “I care about her, though. She's not a bad person. She gets very, very sentimental and open in the afterglow, which is sometimes a blessing and sometimes I wish she'd shut up.”</p><p>Bucky's heart, which had been soaring, slammed into the ground, no longer a heart, but a pulpy mess that resembled a crude image of a heart. He fought to not let it show on his face. He'd momentarily forgotten that Steve Rogers was a good person and cared about class-A bitches and listened to them after he'd fucked them raw. Of course. OF course. Prince Charming wasn't perfect in the books either, he lusted after thirteen year old girls with evil stepmothers. </p><p>Everyone had something like that. Bucky, for example, was gay. Steve, for example, was straight, and yet, still made Bucky fall for him harder and harder every day. It was starting to become a bit of a problem. </p><p>“She sounds like the girl to do that,” Bucky chuckled, and it was hollow, but Steve didn't seem to notice. He pulled the beef away, smiling, and checked Bucky's face. He looked satisfied, and stood, running the beef back into the freezer. “I'm going to go to sleep, Steve. You should go back to school. I'm sure they're all weeping without their eyecandy.” </p><p>Steve paused, one eyebrow raised, an amused expression on his face. Bucky knew he'd fucked up, but he wasn't in the mood to stammer and blush, so he went bold, and didn't go home. He looked up at Steve casually, and it was Steve who blushed slightly. </p><p>“Is it really that bad?” he asked softly, wincing, and Bucky snickered. How could he not see?</p><p>“You kidding? Look in a mirror, pal, you'll see why so many girls in our grade are single and just praying you break up with Sharon.” he said, and he yawned, stretching his hands high above his head. He really hadn't gotten enough sleep the previous night, and the fight, and dealing with Steve, it was just taking the shit right out of him. </p><p>“I don't really look at myself like that,” Steve admitted, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Jesus, I figured girls liked me, but not that much.” Bucky snorted and stood, yawning again and shrugging off his windbreaker and tossing it over the side of the couch. </p><p>“Humble, too. Ladies and gents, he has it all.” Bucky mumbled, shuffling over to the door of his bedroom. He dropped onto his bed, laying on his back because his face still hurt, and he heard footsteps approaching the bedroom door. </p><p>“I'll call, later.” Steve said softly. Bucky hummed and didn't open his eyes. He listened as Steve walked through his house, opened the front door, paused, and then closed the door. A heavy silence fell over Bucky's house, and he sagged further into his mattress. </p><p>He wished he was normal. </p><p>~<br/>
(few days later, thursday)</p><p>Steve pushed his way into the school, just as the lunch bell rang. He had a lit cigarette clamped between his lips, and he inhaled slowly as he spun the combination lock on his locker. It swung open easily, and he shoved his backpack into its depths. He exhaled, blowing the smoke above his head, sighing as the buzz that filled his head. </p><p>There was a few polaroids stuck to the inside of his locker, but that was it. One was of him and Sharon, grinning while she kissed his cheek, another was of him drinking from a bottle of beer, grinning into the lense of the camera. The last was of Sharon blowing a kiss to the camera, smiling seductively. He had taken it right before he had leaned down and kissed her hard, and the next morning they were dating. That was two years ago, when he first moved here. </p><p>He inhaled again, just as Sharon walked up to him, holding her books against her chest. She was wearing a white t-shirt and a pink tanktop overtop, and a plaid skirt that definitely did not make Steve think of pushing it up until her cute cotton panties were revealed. She reached up and touched his shoulder, and he turned and smiled at her, cigarette still clamped in his lips. He exhaled, and then leaned down to kiss her. </p><p>“Steve!” she cried, pushing him away. “You know I hate it when you kiss me after smoking. You taste foul.” she cringed and he shrugged, leaning back up. “Why're you smoking anyway, hon? You stressed?” she asked softly, and he pulled out the pack of cigarettes out of his bag, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans.</p><p>“Something like that.” Steve mumbled, slamming his locker closed. </p><p>“Is it because Brock is suspended for a week? God, I can't believe that damn fairy.” Sharon hissed. Steve tensed and quickly sucked in another lungful of smoke. He only smoked when he was stressed, or needed a break from...everything. Today was one of those days. </p><p>“A week?” he asked. She nodded and they walked, his arm around her shoulders, her arm around his waist, out to the field where the rest of Steve's team was. “He was beating pretty hard on him, though.” Steve mumbled, blowing a cloud of smoke above their heads. Sharon wrinkled her nose in disgust, whether from Steve's words or the smoke, Steve didn't know. </p><p>“God, I just wish that Barnes boy would stop breathing!” she cried suddenly, and Steve very abruptly took his arm from around her and pulled his cigarette out of his mouth. She looked confused, and Steve was starting to get pissed, because Bucky was his friend. He shook his head and started walking away from her. They were still a ways from the rest of his team, who were fighting, of course, and she grabbed at his sleeve. </p><p>“Steve!” she cried, and he turned back around. Jesus, sometimes it took extreme amounts of patience just to talk to Sharon. “Why are you acting like this?” she asked, and her bottom lip stuck out slightly, that pretty shade of pink that Steve liked to suck right off her, the gloss sweet and strawberry flavoured. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, dropping his cigarette and stamping it out in the grass.</p><p>“You wanna skip? Head back to my place?” he said softly, and her expression immediately changed, and she nodded. Steve grinned and slid his arm around her shoulders, easily, her head against his chest, and they started to walk back to the school to grab their things.</p><p>~</p><p>She was moaning, loud, her legs wrapped firmly around his waist. She was close, then, and he tightened his grip on her hips and slammed into her, hard and fast. Her moans choked on themselves, and she arched her back. She really was a beauitufl creature, all pale creamy skin, curves and legs that went on for miles, breasts that were perky and pink nipples, the shade of cotton candy. </p><p>He was buried deep inside of her, her hips held up by cushions from the living room, ones he'd have to wash after this, and he could see himself bulging in her stomach. She was moaning louder and louder, more desperately, and he was glad that he lived alone. He snapped his hips, and she just about shouted, her bound wrists tied above her head, her back arched. </p><p>Her eyes flew open, and they were steel blue, sharp and vivid, and Steve came, choking and gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. It was blinding, and when he finally came to, his head was resting below her breasts, his breath coming hard and thick. </p><p>He looked up at her, and she was smiling lazily at him, satiated. He returned the smile. </p><p>He pulled out of her, inhaling slowly, and laid beside her in his bed. He needed to calm his heart, so he closed his eyes and put an arm around her once she had untied herself, and curled up against him. She sighed happily, her hand pressed against his chest, his fingers running through her hair. He could feel her eyelashes brush the edge of his pectoral, and he shivered because it tickled slightly. </p><p>Sharon's eyes were hazlenut brown. </p><p>He felt his stomach swoon, and he sat up, running his fingers through his sweaty hair, dislodging Sharon, who was so full of concern that Steve could feel it. He felt grimy, sticky, like he was coated in filth, and he slid out of bed, padding over to his bathroom. </p><p>“Steve, baby, are you okay?” Sharon asked. Steve gave a thumbs up and closed the bathroom door most of the way, so that she didn't feel locked out, and he looked at himself in the mirror.</p><p>His face looked the same. Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Cheekbones. He didn't really know what was all the fuss about his face. He needed to shave; he was getting rough and rugged around the edges and Sharon hated it. His body, he could understand. He had broad shoulders and he didn't seem capable of harobouring a gram of fat. He used to be tiny, sure, but now that he wasn't, he didn't know if it was better or worse. Now he was accepted everywhere he went, and it didn't matter. People loved him.</p><p>He turned on the shower. </p><p>The only reason he had this house was because his ma had left him a small amount of money that had barely covered the house and utlities. He was legible to receive it because he had only recently turned eighteen before she died. He didn't have to work, because he owned the house. If he needed to buy food, he'd eat fast food or go over to a friend's house. He knew he'd need a job eventually, but for now, as he finished highschool, he was content to just relax and let himself live. </p><p>Sharon's eyes were brown. Not steely blue. Not even vivid and sharp. They had a dull sense to them, and he didn't want to call her a dumb blonde, but if she had intelligence, she sure didn't act like it. He smoothed his hair back and lathered himself with his soap, which was peppermint scented, and let himself process what had just happened. </p><p>He knew he had feelings for Bucky. That was evident in the fact that he could let his guard down so easily and felt himself buzzing contently whenever he made Bucky smile or laugh, and the fact that he'd almost kissed him. He'd been high, yeah, but he had wanted to, badly. Bucky with his messy dark hair and bright blue eyes and his mouth, oh, god, his mouth. His lips weren't plump, but they were almost there, and looked so soft and plush. Steve wanted to ruin them, wanted to ruin Bucky, for anyone else. He wanted to see what was under Bucky's baggy clothing and he wanted to find every nook and cranny of Bucky, his secrets and his tells, his likes and dislikes.</p><p>But, coming like that after thinking he saw his eyes, that was a bit much for Steve to handle. He liked Sharon, sure, but there was something about Bucky that was just...something. Steve couldn't think, couldn't breathe, barely could speak around Bucky. He could do all of those things easily with Sharon, but with Bucky, it was like someone grabbed a hold of his lungs and his tongue and his heart and stopped him from using any of them. </p><p>“Jesus,” he whispered under the spray of water. He needed a cigarette. He needed to go hang out with Bucky and pretend that he had some kind of a chance with someone like Bucky. </p><p>He needed to break up with Sharon before he started to use her as an outlet for sex and his suddenly overwhelming feelings he shouldn't be having. </p><p>He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist after drying the rest of his body. His hair was still damp and sticking straight up in places, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. It didn't matter. People could see him wearing a garbage bag and they'd take it as gospel, and Sharon would blow him behind the school because he 'looked so damn good'. </p><p>She rolled over when he walked out of the bathroom, and to his shock, she was crying. She had put her panties back on, and she sat up, covering her chest with his blankets. She hiccuped, and Steve raised his eyebrows. She wiped away her tears, though it did nothing, because they streamed back down her face, and Steve just waited patiently for her to tell him what was wrong. </p><p>“I've been sleeping with Brock.” she managed, and Steve started to laugh. His reaction seemed to shock her out of her tears, momentarily, and he only laughed harder because of it. Once it subsided, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, he walked over and grabbed her arm, firmly enough that she wouldn't try to get away, but gentle enough that it wouldn't bruise. She shrank, and he forced her up, on her feet. </p><p>She started to cry out please, don't, as he led her straight to the front door. He threw it open and tossed her out, in nothing but her panties. She covered her breasts with her arms, and he walked back inside and threw the rest of her clothing out along with her. </p><p>“I don't want to speak to you again, Sharon, and I mean that.” Steve growled, and he slammed his door shut on her tears and protests. He locked it for good measure, and walked back into his bedroom, staring at his bed, body itching for a cigarette. He went to his other pair of jeans and pulled the pack out, along with his lighter, and flicked it open, pulling a cigarette out with his teeth and lighting it. </p><p>He inhaled, sighing the smoke out in relief. Fuck, of course she'd been cheating on him. It hurt, of course, because he did care about her, and if he was going to leave her, he was going to do so reluctantly, for both their sakes. Cheating? Cheating? That was a low fuckin' blow. That was a low blow that hurt like a sonofabitch. </p><p>He inhaled again, holding it in until he could see little stars behind his eyes, and he exhaled quickly. Jesus. Maybe throwing her out like that had been a little much. He looked behind him, stepping up to the window that let him look out at his front yard. She was gone, now, and the regret faded almost immediately. She'd cheated on him, with Brock, no less. </p><p>He stepped over to his room and picked up his electric guitar, cigarette filter clamped between his teeth. He flicked his amp on, plugged the guitar in, and started to play Creep, the song that he and Bucky had listened to so many times while they were high. He fucked up a few times, but then he got it, and started humming along, smoke pouring from his lips. </p><p>But I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. I don't belong here.</p><p>He turned off his amp, put out his cigarette, brushed his teeth, and headed out the front door. Fuck this, he was going to go do something that distracted him. He was sick of everything, but addicted to the way he could just...be, around Bucky and no one else. He hummed Creep as he locked his front door, and murmured the lyrics as he walked, fingering the package of cigarettes he had in his back pocket, along with his lighter. He'd have to go easy, or he'd end up addicted, and that was never good when it came to cigarettes. </p><p>It was good, very, very good, when it came to Bucky. </p><p>~</p><p>Bucky pressed his face into his pillow, gasping softly. </p><p>He was home alone for the weekend again, which was a relief, because he had needed this for a long time and hadn't been able to let himself have it. He'd been around Steve, and Sam, and going to school today, the one day since the fight. He'd had no time to himself, and though he had heard that Steve and Sharon were over, because she had cheated on him with Rumlow, he hadn' t heard from Steve since he called the night after the fight. </p><p>But tonight, tonight he had time, and god, was he being indulgent. </p><p>He dragged his hand up, painfully slowly, and bit into the fabric of his pillow. He was close, close enough that too fast of a movement would send him tipping over the edge, so he slowed down, letting the edge move away slightly. He was incredibly hard, and he knew that if he drew it out too long, it wouldn't be as good as he desperately needed it to  be. He was breathing hard into his pillow, but the shirt, the shirt that still smelled like Steve, was the fabric he had his face buried in, and god, he'd never approached the edge so fast. </p><p>He moved down, up, down, up, slowly speeding up until he knew he had to press his face deeper into the pillow to muffle his cry, that, surprise surprise, resembled Steve's name. His body shuddered as the waves washed over him, intense and heavy, and when they subsided, and he was breathing hard into his pillow, bottom lip swollen and throbbing from how often and how hard he'd bitten it. </p><p>He rolled onto his side, breath slowing slightly, his eyes closed gently, hand still wrapped around himself. He sat up, mentally shaking himself back into the land of the living, and stood, pulling his boxers back on and cleaning up after himself. He'd need to shower, and maybe change the sheets, but it didn't seem like one of those times. He looked at his bedding from the doorway of his bedroom, his boxers slightly tented from his quickly fading erection, and decided that he was going to change the sheets. </p><p>Once that was all taken care of, and he'd showered quickly, he shuffled back into his bedroom to get dressed. </p><p>There was a knock at his window. He froze, glancing at his clock. 2:02 am. He tied the towel back around his waist and pulled back the blanket, peering out. </p><p>“Jesus, Rogers, you gave me a heart attack and a half.” Bucky cursed. </p><p>“I didn't know if your family was home or not.” Steve said, shrugging. “I opted for safety.” Bucky sighed, pushing his still dripping hair out of his face and gestured for Steve to go around front, and Steve grinned, walking around the side of his house. </p><p>Bucky quickly tugged on a pair of boxers and some jeans, tugging on a t-shirt and jogging to the front door to unlock it for him. Steve stepped inside, hands in his pockets, and gave Bucky a kind smile. Bucky, his heart racing, felt his cheeks heat up slightly, and smiled back. </p><p>“I want to show you something.” Steve said quietly. Bucky huffed out laughter, his heart practically beating out of his chest, and he nodded. “Good. Come on.” he said, and Bucky obeyed, grabbing his windbreaker from behind the front door and slipping into his Vans. He plucked his house key out of the wooden bowl by the door and after locking up, he tucked it into his back pocket. </p><p>Steve was waiting at the sidewalk, a small flame illuminating his face as he lit what Bucky recognised to be a cigarette. He inhaled, and snapped the lighter shut, exhaling as he put it back in his pocket. Bucky fell into step beside him as they walked through the dark neighbourhood that slept and slept deeply, his hands buried deep in his windbreaker. </p><p>“I didn't know you smoked.” Bucky said, voice cracking the silence of night. He watched as the embers at the end of the cigarette glowed as Steve inhaled again, and it illuminated the smile on his face. He exhaled, and Bucky, whose eyes had adjusted to the darkness, watched as the cloud of smoke rose above them, high into the sky. </p><p>“Only sometimes.” Steve said, and then the pair fell into silence. “You heard what happened, then?” Steve asked after several moments of silence. Bucky didn't respond immediately. </p><p>“Yeah.” he finally answered. “Hard not to.” </p><p>They didn't talk any more after that, and Bucky became aware that Steve was leading him out of their town and into the country that surrounded him, and had a pang of worry for his ma, but remembered he was home alone, and he'd already said goodnight to her. He decided that he wasn't going to worry, and if she called, and he missed it, he would say that he was asleep. </p><p>They had been walking along the highway for a while, when Steve grabbed Bucky's arm and led him down a dirt path, into a grove of trees that were so thick that Bucky was surprised that they weren't trunk to trunk. They wove between them, until they reached a clearing, and Bucky's breath was taken away. Steve turned around, grinning, and rushed up to the edge of a deep pond that had plants that were glowing with bioluminescence. </p><p>“Wow, Steve, this is beautiful,” Bucky gasped, approaching the waters edge and looking down into it. Steve was crouched beside it, dipping his hand into the water, disturbing it slightly. Ripples danced across the surface, and Bucky smiled as he watched them bounce off the opposite bank. Steve looked out at the pond, which as a whole was probably the length of Bucky's house and fifteen feet deep. Bucky sat down beside him, cross legged.</p><p>“I found this place when I first moved here, after my mom died.” he breathed, and there was no need to speak any louder. “I don't think anyone knows about it except for me, and now you too.” he turned to look at Bucky, who was watching him with fondness in his eyes. Bucky didn't try to hide it, this time, and Steve's pupils dilated slightly, even more so than they had been earlier. </p><p>“I come here when I need a break. When it's all a bit much.” Steve whispered. He was still looking at Bucky, his pupils now completely blown, the baby blue just a ring around his pupil. Bucky licked his lips and said nothing, because, god, Steve was beautiful like this. He wanted to kiss him, more than he had wanted to the first night they spent together, and this time, he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to hold back. </p><p>Sam's words echoed in his head; Straight, has a girlfriend, is out of your league, you have no chance. Except...that Steve didn't have a girlfriend anymore. And they were friends, which meant that he had a chance. As for being straight...Bucky knew from the first night they spent together that Steve Rogers was definitely not completely straight. There was something else, something that Bucky couldn't place. </p><p>A song thrust its way into Bucky's mind, one from 1977;</p><p> I know, I know, you belo-ong to so-omebody ne-ew, but tonight, you belo-ong to me. Although, although, we're apa-art you're a pa-art of my he-a-rt, and tonight, you belo-ong to me.</p><p>He started to smile at the absurdity of it all, the fact that he was likely going to kiss Steven Grant Rogers, the definition of heterosexuality, in front of a pond that glowed naturally, in the middle of the night. Steve, the quarterback, was going to kiss him, the nobody from one of his bio classes. It was incredible and insane at the same time, and Bucky decided that fuck it, he'd rather say he lived and died young than didn't live at all and died at one-hundred-and-two. He pushed forward a fraction of an inch. </p><p>Their mouths slotted together like pieces of a puzzle, and Bucky groaned softly into his lips. They were soft, and lush, and tasted sweet and smokey at the same time, a taste that Bucky was never going to get sick of. Steve's teeth grazed his bottom lip, and Bucky stopped breathing because when he opened his mouth just slightly, Steve sucked his bottom lip into his own and bit down on it, a breathy sigh escaping from Steve's throat. </p><p>It was all teasingly slow, but Bucky wouldn't have it any other way. Warmth was pooling behind his navel, and he wanted more, because this was overwhelming and not enough at the same time. Steve's hand slid behind his head, pulling him closer, kissing him a little firmer, and Bucky, embarrassingly, whined. Steve grinned against his lips, however, and licked into Bucky's mouth, tasting him. Bucky shivered and copied his movements, waves of shocks running over his skin as their tongues moved against the others. </p><p>They broke, both breathing hard. Bucky licked his lips, smiling, sure that his pupils were just as blown as Steve's were. Steve smiled too, and he leaned forward, capturing Bucky's mouth in a kiss again. Bucky inhaled sharply through his nose and pressed into Steve, the warmth in his navel starting to heat further. </p><p>Bucky pulled back, breathless. “Come back to my house,” he burst, and Steve nodded wordlessly, getting to his feet. He helped Bucky up, and they kissed again, partially because it seemed the right moment, Steve bending down slightly to make up for the difference in height, Bucky's hands on Steve's waist, itching to slide up his slim t-shirt. When they broke, they started to laugh, because both didn't think they had a chance with the other. </p><p>~</p><p>They stumbled into Bucky's house, Bucky dropping the housekey and leaning down to pick it up, smiling broadly. Steve's hand slid up his back as he straightened up, and a wave of nervous excitement washed over Bucky. Christ, what were they going to do?</p><p>Steve walked further in, kicking off his shoes and flicking on the light to Bucky's bedroom, grinning like a fool. Bucky followed, close behind, and he kicked his door shut automatically. He dropped onto his bed, leaning against his pillows, one knee brought up, the other leg lying half off the mattress. The space between was vacant, and he looked up at Steve, whose eyes had gone a few shades darker, and whose pupils were blown wide. He leaned over, turning on a much softer lamp and turning off the main light. </p><p>Steve shrugged off his jacket, which shouldn't have been as hot as it was, and then he climbed onto Bucky's bed, right between his legs, and kissed him, this time hungrily, like he was a junkie looking for a hit, and Bucky was relief. Bucky groaned into his mouth, sliding his hands over his shoulders, digging his fingertips into his shoulderblades. </p><p> Steve's hands were on his hips, his fingertips sliding up Bucky's shirt and the windbreaker, and he pulled back, lips a richer pink and glistening in the dim glow. Bucky sat up and pulled off his jacket, and then his shirt, suddenly nervous to be showing so much. Steve's eyes raked Bucky's torso, and Bucky felt more naked than he'd ever been in his life. He shimmied down, lying beneath Steve, who was suspended above him, eyes dark. </p><p>“James,” Steve growled appreciately, voice a low rumble, and he dropped down, sinking his teeth into Bucky's chest. Bucky gasped, arching into it, a wave of white hot blood rushing south faster than he thought was possible. Steve sucked marks into his chest, claiming him like a predator to prey, sloppily kissing down his stomach to the waistband of his jeans. Bucky was a mess, and when Steve mouthed at the hard ridge through his jeans, his hips bucked involuntarily, and he moaned. </p><p>“Ah,” he gasped, and Steve leaned back up, kissing Bucky messily but oh-so skillfully that Bucky felt himself melt into his mattress. Steve's hand popped the button of his jeans open, and Bucky shivered as he let Steve remove them from his body. Bucky plucked at Steve's shirt, and Steve removed it, and popped the button of his own jeans, which made Bucky sigh and pull him down for another kiss. </p><p>“I'm---I haven't--” Bucky gasped as Steve bit into Bucky's neck. His hand was inching closer and closer to the waistband of Bucky's boxers, and his brain was shortcircuiting. Steve shushed him, nosing his cheek as he kissed his jaw.</p><p>“It's okay,” Steve murmured. “Neither have I. If you don't like something, tell me, okay?” Bucky nodded and Steve continued to kiss down his neck, only sucking marks into his chest and stomach, where he could hide them. </p><p>He pressed his tongue under the waistband of Bucky's boxers, and Bucky keened, whimpering, gripping Steve's hand, which had slid up and brushed his chest. Steve's hand pulled down his boxers, and Bucky felt Steve's grin against his hip as Bucky squirmed slightly. Then he took Bucky into his mouth, and down his throat, and Bucky choked, gripping Steve's hand. </p><p>“Oh, fuck,” he moaned as Steve started bobbing, slowly, and he looked down to find Steve's eyes locked with his own, and it only made it better. Bucky had never seen such a shade of blue before, and he moaned, head falling back against his pillows as Steve sucked. Bucky cried out, so close, almost there, and Steve came off with a lewd pop, and Bucky shivered as Steve came back up and pressed more open mouthed kisses to his throat.</p><p>“Taste so good darlin,” Steve slurred against his throat, and Bucky arched his back at the praise. He pulled back and grasped Bucky's throat, forcing him to look into Steve's eyes. “You're mine.” he said, words perfectly clear, and Bucky could have come from just that if he hadn't been actively trying to suspend it. Steve kissed him, hungry and hard, and Bucky moaned. </p><p>They kissed for a long, long time, Steve slowly grinding his hips down against Bucky's, teasing him closer and closer, until Bucky pulled back, fingers digging into Steve's shoulders. </p><p>“Want you--” he gasped as Steve ran his hands up Bucky's sides, touching every inch of him that he could. “--to fuck me.” </p><p>Steve made a choking noise against his collarbones, and pressed his forehead into Bucky's neck, breathing hard. “Jesus, fuck, baby, just about made me cum.” Steve hissed and he kissed Bucky messily. Bucky groaned and his hips lifted, seeking friction. “Don't have lube.” Steve said, words muffled against Bucky's mouth. </p><p>“Coconut oil, in the kitchen,” Bucky managed, pulling away to taste Steve's skin. Steve laughed and angled his head so that Bucky had perfect access to his neck. </p><p>“God, that's perfect,” he breathed, and he pulled back, standing up and looking down at Bucky, who was almost completely naked save his boxers, which were pulled down to his thighs anyway. Steve leaned down and firmly sucked a mark into Bucky's hip, making him gasp and laugh breathlessly because of how much it tickled. “Where is it?” he asked, and Bucky licked his lips, trying to think of where the coconut oil was. </p><p>“Next to the fridge, I think.” Bucky answered, propping himself up on his elbows. Steve smiled and kissed him before carefully opening his door and walking out, in nothing but his jeans which were unzipped at the top. </p><p>Bucky laid back down on his pillows, a little scared, but mostly excited and very turned on. Jesus, he didn't think this would ever happen to him. He figured he'd have to pretend to fall in love with some girl and then get married and have children that he would love, but that wouldn't have been a product of love. This was proof that that might not have to happen, it might not have to happen at all. </p><p>Steve returned and closed the door, placing the small jar of coconut oil on Bucky's desk, next to his bed. He then shimmied out of his jeans and boxers, leaving Bucky wide-eyed and his mouth watering. Fuck, was that supposed to fit inside him? Steve grinned and leaned down, pulling Bucky's boxers the rest of the way off of him, tossing them away. Steve then climbed back over Bucky and kissed him slowly, laying down carefully. </p><p>Bucky moaned at just the skin-to-skin contact. Steve's skin was so hot and smooth and fucking irresistable. He rocked his hips up into Steve's, earning a moan from him that Bucky eagerly swallowed up, nibbling on Steve's bottom lip. </p><p>“Are you sure?” Steve asked, breathless, and Bucky nodded. Yes. Yes. He wanted Steve to be the one to take it, even if it never happened again. Steve ran his tongue over his bottom lip and reached up for the jar, flipping Bucky onto his stomach, angling his hips up. “Fuck, darlin, such a pretty sight,” Steve cooed, grabbing handfulls of Bucky's ass and kneading him like he was dough. Bucky whined, pressing up into the touch, and the nervousness that had come from being so exposed was gone. </p><p>Steve's fingers were cold, but slick, and they slipped inside of Bucky without much difficulty, and Bucky gasped at the sensation. Steve inhaled sharply and started to finger Bucky, slowly, drawing it out. Bucky pushed up against his hand, and Steve pressed a sloppy kiss to Bucky's ass cheek, adding another finger and stretching him out, scissoring them. Bucky whimpered, because there was a slight burn, but it was so good, and he wanted more. </p><p>Steve's fingers slipped a little deeper and Bucky cried out, gripping the sheets on his bed so tightly that his knuckles went white. Fuck, what was that? </p><p>“P-please--” Bucky begged, as Steve's fingers brushed over that spot over and over again, a third finger pressing in easily and stretching him further. Steve leaned up, and kissed from Bucky's shoulderblades down to the swell of his ass. </p><p>“Okay,” Steve said, and he straightened up, and removed his fingers. Bucky hissed at the loss, but then something a lot bigger and a lot blunter was pressing into him, and suddenly he was being impaled, pierced so deeply, and he moaned, arching into it as Steve's fingers gripped his hips hard enough to bruise, the ones that were still slightly slick sliding against his skin. </p><p>Steve's hips pressed against his ass, and Bucky moaned again. He felt so full, so completely full, and he never wanted the feeling to end. Steve flipped him around, carefully, so he was lying on his back, hips slightly elevated from one of his pillows. He looked up into Steve's eyes and saw something he couldn't place, and Steve bit his bottom lip groaning and leaning down to kiss Bucky. </p><p>“So tight,” he growled, “so good for me.” He carefully rocked his hips into Bucky, making the pair gasp, and Steve slowly started to speed up, pulling further and further out until he was snapping his hips into Bucky, harsh and fast, and Bucky was an incoherent mess of not enough and too much. When Bucky was starting to get close, rushing towards the edge, Steve slowed right down, rocking into him gently, brushing that spot inside him that was making him see stars. </p><p>“Steve,” Bucky gasped, and Steve sucked a mark into his collarbone. Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve's waist and pulled him closer, forcing him to push in deeper, and Steve groaned. “Oh, god, Steve, please,” Bucky babbled, and Steve kissed him far too sweetly for what they were doing, and then slammed his hips into Bucky, hitting that magic spot with deadly precision, and Bucky came, choking out Steve's name. He arched his back at a nearly impossible angle, and Steve buried his face in Bucky's neck as he came too, crying James in such a manner that Bucky didn't think he'd be able to hear his first name and not get hard after this. </p><p>Steve dropped in a heap on top of Bucky, who wrapped his arms around him and ran his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck as they both breathed heavily, gripping onto each other like it was the end of the world. </p><p>Steve slowly pulled out, and that was more of a loss than anything, and Bucky grimaced. Steve kissed him through it though, soft and sweet. “We should shower, Buck,” he whispered, and Bucky nodded, letting Steve pull him up. They shuffled to the bathroom, and Steve turned the shower on, stepping under while it was still warming up. He made a squeaking sound and tensed, and Bucky laughed, stepping in after him. </p><p>Once they were clean, and Bucky had somehow managed to get all the cum out of his ass, they dried off but didn't get dressed, and shuffled back to Bucky's bedroom. Bucky climbed in first, sliding under the covers and holding them up for Steve, who slid in and immediately pulled Bucky flush against his chest, his nose buried in the crook of Bucky's neck. </p><p>They could worry about everything tomorrow. </p><p>~</p><p>Bucky woke to the sound of someone opening the front door, and he carefully slid out of Steve's arms, pulling on some sweats and a t-shirt, terrified that it was his parents and his sisters, come home a day early. He carefully opened the door, and slid out, closing it behind him. </p><p>“Hey, man, jesus, where've you been?” Sam cried, and Bucky's heart jumped, his muscles relaxing. “I tried calling you last night but you weren't answering, so I figured that I'd stop by and check in.” Bucky ran his fingers through his hair that was sticking up at random angles because he'd fallen asleep when it was still wet and sighed, relieved. Jesus, he'd be disowned if his parents came home and found him in bed with another guy. </p><p>“Fuck, Sam, you scared me. I thought you were my parents and my sisters.” he hissed, and Sam made a confused face, eyes flicking down and then back up, but then down again, his jaw falling unhinged. Bucky looked down and saw that there was a rather prominent hicky on his collarbone, a dark rich purple, and he clapped a hand over it, wincing. </p><p>“What the fuck is that?” Sam cried. Bucky opened his mouth, but then his bedroom door opened, and he watched as Steve, holding up a blanket to hide his hips, stepped out. Sam made a strange shrieking sound and Steve's eyes widened and he immediately went back into Bucky's room, closing the door with a slam. </p><p>Bucky turned back to Sam, expecting the worst. Sam gaped at him and then satrted to point at the Bucky, then at his bedroom door, and back again, over and over. Bucky reached out and grabbed his wrists, stilling him. </p><p>“I'll call you later, okay?” Bucky said firmly. “Just go home for now, Sam, and for the love of god, don't tell a single soul.” Sam nodded, eyes still wide, and turned around, walking right out the front door in a daze. Bucky rushed up and locked it, leaning against the grainy wood with a groan. </p><p>“Uh,” Steve said, and Bucky turned around to see that he was wearing jeans now, but no shirt. Bucky sighed and walked up to him, shaking his head. “He's gone?” Bucky nodded and leaned against his counter, running his hands through his hair. </p><p>“He's not going to tell anyone. He's the first person I told I was gay.” Bucky mumbled, reaching into his fridge and grabbing the apple juice, drinking straight from the jug. Steve let out a soft sigh of reassurance, and Bucky looked at his bare chest, which had a few hickeys around his pecs and his collarbones. He smiled to himself and finished drinking the juice, offering it to Steve, who took it and chugged for a few seconds, gasping contently once he'd finished.</p><p>“So...” Bucky started. “What...what happens now?” he asked, crossing his arms. Steve didn't say anything for a few minutes and Bucky spared a glance up at him and found that he was thinking. Dread filled Bucky, but he'd known what he'd gotten himself into, so he swallowed it back. </p><p>“Well, I get a key to my house made for you so you can come over whenever you'd like, for a start.” Steve finally said, and Bucky's face went blank with shock. “What? Did you think—oh, Buck,” he said, realisation suddenly hitting him, and he pulled Bucky into an embrace that Bucky happily reciprocrated. “I wouldn't do that to you.” </p><p>“I know.” Bucky whispered, but he didn't. He didn't know that. “If my parents find out, they'll disown me. They'll kick me out.” </p><p>“If they find out, which they won't, because we'll be careful, and you do get kicked out, you can come and live with me. My house is empty and barren, it could use some touching up.” Steve said, pulling back to cup Bucky's face, and Bucky nodded, tears stupidly filling his eyes. “Bucky?” </p><p>“I'm sorry--” Bucky whispered thickly. “I just—I thought that something was wrong with me.” </p><p>Steve's expression broke and he pulled Bucky close and tight, burying his face in Bucky's hair. “Nothing's wrong with you. Absolutely nothing.” </p><p>Bucky believed him. </p><p>~</p><p>Eight months later, three weeks until graduation</p><p>Bucky laughed with Steve as they made their way towards Bucky's house, bumping shoulders and brushing hands. They were safe to be a little less careful when they were out in the neighbourhood, mainly because there was rarely anyone outside and watching, and they looked like best friends if anything. Sam was sick today, on a Friday of all nights, but Bucky wasn't complaining. His family were out, gone to his grandparents, and Steve was good to come over and watch whatever was on, with some good old cookies that Bucky had made the night before. </p><p>“Y'know, I never get sick of seeing you from this angle.” Steve said from a few steps below Bucky as he stuck his key into the lock and turned it, too distracted by spinning around and blowing Steve a kiss to realise that the door was already unlocked, and putting his key in had done absolutely nothing. Steve caught the kiss, pretended to be confused, held it up to his ear, and then opened his fist, and acted like he'd been punched silly. He then plastered a goofy smile on his face and Bucky giggled like the fool he was, and turned back to the house. </p><p>They didn't see that Bucky's parents car was in the driveway, parked and empty. </p><p>Bucky opened the door and stumbled in, Steve following close behind, and he turned to kiss Steve as they closed the door. Steve leaned down and kissed Bucky while grinning, which was one of Bucky's favourite kisses so far. He wrapped his arms around Bucky's shoulders, and they swayed there for a moment, just kissing innocently, holding each other. </p><p>“James?” </p><p>Bucky jumped back from Steve, heart thrashing against his ribs like a caged animal. Adrenaline surged through him and he slowly turned around to look into his ma's, his father's, and all of his sisters eyes. His ma was the one who had spoken, and she looked heartbroken. His father looked grim and angry and disgusted, whilst his sisters were staring up in awe and confusion. Becca was the only one who looked frightened, and Bucky knew that was because she had known he was gay for a while before this. </p><p>“What is the meaning of this?” Bucky's father asked, voice tight and furious. Bucky swallowed and stepped back, his back hitting Steve's chest, and Steve touched his waist, reassuring him. Bucky inhaled and stepped forward, closer to his family, all lined up in a row, and stuck his hands in his pockets, balling them into fists. </p><p>“I'm gay.” Bucky said quietly. “This is my boyfriend.” </p><p>Silence fell, and Bucky's father stepped forward. Bucky cringed, but held his ground. </p><p>“You disgust me.” Bucky's father spat, and he swung at Bucky before Bucky was even aware, but Steve had lurched forward and grabbed Bucky's backpack, yanking him out of the way. Bucky fell back, avoiding the blow by a few inches, and Steve caught him and steadied him. </p><p>“George! Stop it! Please!” Bucky's ma shouted, and she was sobbing. Steve pulled Bucky behind him, spreading his arms out, protecting him. </p><p>“All due respect, sir, if you want to lay a hand on him, you're going to have to get through me first.” Steve growled, voice low, and Bucky, who was trapped behind him, was taken aback by Steve's words. </p><p>George, Bucky's father, spat on the ground in front of Steve and then punched him in the jaw, sending him stumbling back. Bucky shouted for him to stop, Bucky's ma screamed, and his sisters started to weep. Bucky steadied Steve, who had a split lip, and George Barnes turned away, shaking his head. Steve groaned as he touched his jaw, and Bucky examined him, grimacing at the reddish hue that was the tell-tale beginnings of a nasty bruise. </p><p>“Get out. You can come get your belongings in a few days, when I am not here.” George Barnes growled without turning around. Bucky looked at the back of his head pleadingly. </p><p>“Dad, plea--”</p><p>“You are no son of mine!” George Barnes whipped around and roared, and he turned back around to a weeping wife and four daughters who looked scared and had tears of their own. Bucky faltered, and Steve's hand touched his shoulder. He shrugged it off, rushing out through the front door, out into the street. </p><p>He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, and oh, jesus, had that really happened? How did he and Steve miss that? How had they been so careless after so long of being careful? He dropped to his knees on the pavement, pressing his palms into the rough surface, his vision blurry with thick hot tears. They spilled onto the sidewalk, dark, wet, splotches, and he hated himself more than anything in that moment. He wished he had never met Steve, never been gay, never been born, because none of this would have happened. </p><p>But then...Steve had been the one person outside of Sam and his family to accept him. He had kissed him like he wasn't defective, or something was wrong with him. He kissed him like he was solid and real and perfect in his own way. He held him like he was normal, like it was okay to love someone who was the same sex as you. He stood up for him at school, when Rumlow was a jackass, and Sharon was a cunt, when people called them fags, and Bucky stood up for him too. He kicked dirt when Steve was too nice to, he cursed when Steve was too polite to, he defended Steve as much as Steve defended him. </p><p>The tears subsided, and Bucky sat up, on his knees, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. </p><p>He could survive without his father's approval, or his ma. Even his sisters. He could live without them, if they weren't able to accept who he was. He looked around for Steve, and found him sitting on the lawn a few feet away, his jaw bruised, his lip split, respecting the fact that Bucky wanted space. Bucky turned and crawled to him, sitting between his legs and cupping his face in his hands, the wind brushing against his tear-streaked cheeks. </p><p>“I love you.” he whispered. Steve's eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I don't want to be without you. I don't want to fight the world without you by my side. If we can get through this, we can get through anything.” </p><p>Steve choked on laughter, his face splitting into a grin. “I love you too. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you.” </p><p>Bucky kissed him, briefly and sweetly. Steve kissed back like he wasn't injured, or if he was, he didn't give a damn. </p><p>I believe in us, Bucky thought as he and Steve got to their feet and walked away.</p><p>~</p><p>I believe in us, he thought as two years later, they attended protests for gay rights and equality. </p><p>~</p><p>I believe in us, he thought as they made love in their bed, the first night they had spent together outside of their hometown, in an apartment in Brooklyn, three years later.</p><p>~</p><p>I believe in us, he thought as they screamed at each other, one of the worst fights they'd ever been through, glass shattered on every surface. </p><p>~</p><p>I believe in us, he thought as Steve slid a simple gold band around his finger on his twenty-fifth birthday, and they kissed for hours and hours on end.</p><p>~</p><p>I believe in us, he thought as his ma walked him down the aisle, smiling proudly up into Steve's face. </p><p>~</p><p>I believe in us, he thought as they talked with George Barnes and laughed about stories of Bucky's childhood. </p><p>~</p><p>I believe in us, he thought, and he never did stop believing. </p><p>~</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading! if you liked it, yay! kudos are appreciated!</p><p>if you have constructive critiscism, then comment and let me know. </p><p>if you hated this, please, move along. we have enough negativity in our lives right now, and this is supposed to be a happy safe place to post writing without fear of being hated on. </p><p>hope you enjoyed it!</p><p>kudos and comments are appreciated :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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